


Baby you're a firework

by Louie_writes



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Hanahaki Disease, M/M, One Sided Love, RIP, Ughhhh, Vomiting, and destructively, go ahve sum, honestly i hate taggin UGHH, i hate the a trope, idk happy end cause i can't write badnn endings rip me rip yall, if that's your poison make sure to not overdose, if you like angst this is your fic, kuroo x everyone means this dude falls in love easily and deeply, pls don't ask me why i wrote it, ughhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-17 21:44:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19963678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louie_writes/pseuds/Louie_writes
Summary: Me: idk hanahaki isn’t really my thing. I know some gems in the tag but i wouldn’t say it really speaks to meAlso me: you see if i were to write hanahaki it would be something like-----------------“Tetsuro’s first ever instance of the Hanahaki disease was him throwing up a stomach full of flower petals before his greatest rival’s feet, who immediately dropped everything he did and walked Tetsuro through vomiting, confessing, and being rejected.”





	1. The scars that mark my body, they’re silver and gold

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title from the song “Firework” by Katy Perry.
> 
> Chapter title from song "yellow flicker beat" by Lorde
> 
> this fic came to me like a headache and pushed all my schedules backwards. enoy it, especially if you wait for an update of something else

The first ever real crush Kuroo Tetsuro had was on Daishou Suguru of all people.

It was at a middle school training camp and their teams played against each other frequently, and Tetsuro had taken an easy disliking and intense rivalry against the other boy in no time.

Their rivalry was childish and petty and they stuck their tongues out at each other and flipped each other off leading Tetsuro to frequently complain about him to everyone in his team, who soon had their fill of Tetsuro’s constant complaints about the other player and tried their darndest to make him ‘shut up about Suguru already’. Unsuccessfully.

Despite the active tension between the boys, Tetsuro felt very alive and happy at training camp, so when there was a scratching in his throat his first thought was that he had over-done it physically and had caught a cold. How inconvenient.

It wasn’t until they were snarking at each other in the changing rooms that Tetsuro was overcome with what had been building the last few days, and threw up a stomach full of flower petals before Daishou’s feet.

Tetsuro was so taken aback by it he didn’t quite register what it meant and how to interpret it at first, but luckily for him the other boy caught on faster than him and helped him through.

Tetsuro’s first ever instance of the Hanahaki disease was him throwing up a stomach full of flower petals before his greatest rival’s feet, who immediately dropped everything he had and walked Tetsuro through vomiting, confessing, and being rejected.

\-----

The following day Daishou pretended nothing had happened, even if his jabs were a little less under the belt this time around. Tetsuro, in turn, got a little nicer as well.

Tetsuro, despite his respect for the snake, made sure to never drop a kind word about him. After all, he  _ did _ have a rivalry to uphold.

As long as no one started to trash Nohebi, there was no reason to suspect that Tetsuro had anything other than hostile feelings towards snakes. 

* * *

The highschool rivalry with Yaku felt different from the rivalry with Daishou, though it seemed Tetsuro had developed a type. Namely people that rubbed him the wrong way.

At the very least, with Daishou he knew that the other had a terrible personality, so he had all the reason in the world to hate him (and like him apparently), but Yaku was a good guy.

Tetsuro just felt the need to prove him wrong.

Deny him.

Dominate him maybe.

All things considered, the flowers shouldn’t have been a surprise.

He may even have been able to deal with them, if they hadn’t come in such opposite extremes.

Throughout the first few weeks, when his only desire was to piss the other off through any means necessary solely to put him on edge, the flowers had been individual petals.

Nothing too bad, something exciting even. Tetsuro had kinda enjoyed it--their rivalry and the sweet, sweet flavours of one sided love.

That was until they were asked for future goals.

“To dominate nationals,” they both said at the same time, with the same amount of determination.

And in that moment, looking at the other in utter awe, he felt a true kinship, a bond that went beyond any sort of artificial rivalry they had built up.

And just in that moment, he was overwhelmed with feelings.

And he barfed them out.

Onto Yaku’s feet.

In front of the whole team.

In the form of flowers.

“Uh, are you alright?” Yaku asked, concerned and startled.

“Just peachy,” Tetsuro said in a raspy voice, then he spewed more flowers.

“Actually, there is something I have to tell you.”

Never let it be said that rejected feelings, let alone public ones, would be poison to a friendship. If anything, Tetsuro and Yaku had gotten along better with all honest cards on the table, than before when they were playing an act.

* * *

Bokuto was his third crush.

It happened at training camp, again. Where the best romances blossomed apparently. There was a friendly and intense sort of rivalry, but unlike with the other two, they actually got along splendidly off the court.

Maybe that was his downfall, that he expected to see pattern and then he was thrown for a loop with something else.

At least with Bo he could see it coming. Falling in love with Bokuto Kotarou was inevitable in a way. He was bright and enrapturing and addicting. Tetsuro felt brighter and more alive when around him. He was exciting and thrilling and whenever Tetsuro had thought about falling in love, either as a kid or recently,  _ that _ was how he had envisioned it.

But just as he was starting to enjoy himself and get some sort of hope, he started coughing out flowers again. Since he had opted to spend as much time with Bo as possible no matter what, he couldn’t quite keep the flowers a secret. He  _ could _ keep  _ who they were truly for _ a secret though. After all, while the flowers were a pain, unless they made him double over as he vomited them onto the feet of his crush, he could deal with them. The consistent humiliation of baring his feelings to someone he  _ knew _ didn’t return them, and then the fear and uncertainty the following few days, as their relationship swung uncertainly between fake-normal and awkward-avoidant as the other person decided how to deal with Tetsuro, was even worse.

Not even to speak of the actual throwing up. Tetsuro wasn’t a big fan of that part either.

Bo was wholeheartedly supportive of whichever sort of crush Tetsuro seemed to have and would clap a hand on his back encouragingly, prompting him to confess to the person, because ‘what’s the worst that could happen?’

_ Oh Bokuto, if only you knew _ .

——

It was during a damn training match of all things that it happened. Bokuto had been shining all day, hooting and succeeding and being better than ever before.

_ He was blinding _ .

It was when he scored a particularly successful point against Nekoma single-handedly, being cheered on by his teammates, and growled at by the opposition, that Tetsuro made eye contact with him through the net and said.

“Damn bastard.”

And then with practically no warning, the butterflies in his stomach all made their way up through his throat and out of his mouth.

In front of Bokuto’s feet.

Startled silence from the crowd, the whole camp. After a while, a few concerned calls about Kuroo’s well being.

He picked himself up, pulling his body up with a tight grip on the net and said,

“Bokuto, I think I have to tell you something.”

* * *

Akaashi was about as inevitable as Bokuto was. Though they had put an active effort into not making Akaashi part of the quota.

After the disturbingly public and dramatic incidents with both Yaku and then Bokuto the year prior, Tetsuro had made himself somewhat of a name at school, or at the very least in the team and especially at camp. Naturally, when Akaashi first started joining Tetsuro’s and Bokuto’s extra practice, he couldn’t quite keep the questions to himself.

Well, he could, but he couldn’t quite keep himself from looking at Tetsuro in curiosity, and Tetsuro, on his part, wanted any and all sorts of invasive questions over and done with so he could go on with life.

And practice.

So Akaashi asked how much of what was said about him at training camp was true.

Bokuto answered for him, laughing joyously at Tetsuro’s expense, but in a way that felt friendly and not hostile. Saying how he fell in love easily but had zero luck with it.

After the quite public and forced confession, the two had bonded immensely, having built a very strong friendship based on a very awkward moment and a mutual sort of understanding of matters—similar to the relationship Tetsuro had developed with Yaku. So, as a new, very close friend, who had seen Tetsuro at his worst and not rejected, Tetsuro had shared other issues of the sort with him.

How he avoided certain supermarkets because a cashier smiled at him too gently, how he now took a different tube because there was a particularly attractive person in the one that he had taken before, how he went to a con one time and coughed a flower onto the autograph of his favourite artist and henceforth planned to not meet idols again.

Akaashi looked at him with wide eyes, saying his strength was admirable. Tetsuro had laughed then, joked that Akaashi shouldn’t be too nice to him or he’ll be the next on the list.

Akaashi had laughed and said it would be a pleasure to treat him like the garbage he was.

Tetsuro found that great, wonderful, good, too good.

He should have known.

——

You see, the problem with Akaashi was that he became even more attractive when he was mean to you. So really, Tetsuro didn’t stand a chance either way.

At last the time to confess came at a particularly under the belt jab on Akaashi’s part during extra practice, which prompted Tetsuro to empty his flowery guts in front of the other.

Dammit all to hell again.

“Hey Akaashi, guess what,” it really lost its joke with time.

* * *

With Sawamura he hadn’t even noticed anything at first. They had shaken hands like how good captains did and wished each other a good game, and Tetsuro could tell in his very bones that Karasuno’s captain would be a pain in the ass to deal with.

Fine, good, time moves on.

His attention wasn’t even on the captain at first anyway—the little freaky shrimp and his absurdly talented setter had stood in the limelight of things, pulling the attention towards themselves and away from others.

Point is Tetsuro had other problems at the time.

——

There was a spark at the end of their match, when they shook hands too forcefully and wished each other a fake goodbye.

That was a different spark though. An eager one. The sort a rival would have with an even match that he was keen to square off against again.

Not the sort that would make you throw up flowers.

But given, those were practically the same thing with Tetsuro.

——

He could slowly feel it at the actual camp.  _ That _ spark forming. Again. He couldn’t quite keep track of it in the excitement of it all that was happening, in the tumult of having four teams in the same gym. But it was there. Forming.

Blooming into something… that should have been good and wonderful, but was nothing like that, nothing like that at all.

He could start feeling it in his throat. Standing on the sidelines with Sawamura, discussing the training regime and each team. He enjoyed himself doing so, but a tickle in his throat made him cough.

“Are you alright?” Sawamura asked, being a decent person and all that.

“’S fine,” Tetsuro assured, “just got a scratchy throat.” He drank some water; it didn’t help.

_ God, not again _ . He thought.  _ Why does it need to happen again? Hasn’t it been enough _ ?

——

Tetsuro decided to say ‘fuck it’ and maybe  _ not _ humiliate himself entirely at a training camp for once.

He sought out Sawamura late one night to talk to him in private.

He shared his feelings and how and when they came and also somewhat of his history.

Sawamura was a little startled but other than that an utter gentleman about rejecting him. 

What a lad.

——

The next day happened and honestly Tetsuro had slept surprisingly well, having kept his secret mostly secret this time around. Sawamura nodded at him from a distance and he nodded back but other than that the issue was discussed no more.

* * *

Tsukki had thrown him for a loop in the sense that he had been distracted by Sawamura too much to realise that the proud, protective feelings he harboured for a certain crow went beyond a Senpai/Kohai relationship.

He hadn’t known his name when they first talked — he had just noticed that there was a first year at Karasuno who seemed hard set on not feeling joy.

Well, and depressed minds pull to each other and all that.

No spark yet.

——

They didn’t get a real conversation until the Shinsen training camp, and even there Tetsuro’s first focus was on whipping Lev into shape and getting rid of his feelings for Sawamura before he could pay any attention to Tsukki.

Taunting Tsukki into blocking for them was fun though.

A little too fun.

He should have known.

——

His curiosity was woken when Tsukki, on his own terms, knocked on the door of their gym and asked questions about Volleyball.

Tetsuro was so excited he could taste a petal in his mouth.

At that time, he would have almost mistaken it for a left over petal from his Sawamura crush.

As he tasted it though he could only think that he couldn’t fucking do it again so soon.

——

Teaching the first years, predominantly those from another school, about blocking and volleyball as a whole was exciting, fun. Tetsuro felt in his element.

He enjoyed bossing people around and acting as the experienced person and the entire game against the owls was fun. Exciting.

If he swallowed three petals and no one was any wiser.

——

He almost thought he’d gotten away with it too. Just some harboured, neglected feelings for a young crow from a small city that would visit every now and again.

But unaddressed feelings would always hit him full force and when least convenient. So naturally, teasing Tsukki into eating some food at the barbecue would go wrong.

After a moment of awkward silence from their group, luckily not from the entire barbecue  — which wouldn’t be new but very much NOT welcome — Tsukki said,

“Do I need to eat the flowers too?”

“Yea well, about that —”

Despite the initial sass and the quite frankly terrible manners from the first year, Tsukki was incredibly nice about rejecting him, in public no less.

Tetsuro himself was just absolutely fucking done with it all.


	2. You no longer fear when your heart turns to gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from song “Gold” by imagine dragons

Kenma had lost his rose coloured glasses regarding romance a long time ago.

People all had their own thoughts regarding one sided love, or Hanahaki as a whole. Kenma, for one, had Kuro for a best friend for several years now and saw first hand what it did to you.

Or what it did to Kuro in particular.

He probably saw more of it than other people did. Anything from minor inconveniences like Kuro not going to the public pool anymore because the lifeguard was dangerously good looking, to the nights when Kuro rolled onto Kenma’s bed, crying into his lap about wanting it all to end. Not being strong enough for any of it anymore.

Kenma would run his fingers through his best friend’s hair on those days and wonder who the fuck thought it would be a good idea to invent such things as romance and let them lose on teenagers who already struggled with their hormones enough as it was.

——

All that changed when Kenma got lost in Miyagi.

It wasn’t the first time he got lost, not even the first time lost in a foreign town, shut off from the rest of his team. He just shared his location with Kuro and waited to be picked up.

That’s when he was found by a little crow.

A little, bright crow with a big smile and a bigger heart.

And for the first time, Kenma got sort of an understanding of what the other half of Kuro’s struggle was.

* * *

Hinata Shoyou sparked an _ interest _ .

Something about the way he had talked to Kenma when they had just met on the road was enrapturing, made Kenma eager to see more, made him excited to play against him.

His whole team lost their shit when they found out later that day.

——

Kenma felt his first  _ real _ spark when he watched the freak quick against Fukurodani at training camp.

Kuro had called him out on it too then. ‘You have the same face you do as when you play a new game.’ He had said. ‘A really excited one.’

Kenma had denied it of course.

He liked Shoyou, he did. He got a nice, sort of excited feeling deep in his stomach when he talked to the other, and a nice sorta stinging spark when he watched the other play at full potential.

He was an interesting person, and a good friend.

But he was much more than that. He had the ability to spark a desire to improve oneself and become a better player. Even in Kenma.

——

Kenma’s first true instance of Hanahaki disease was during private practice with Shoyou.

Against his own expectations he had agreed to toss to the little beam of sunshine, who would praise him and his tosses to no end, which was lovely.

But he also would not shut up about his own setter.

Kenma made it to five tosses before he started to choke on the flower petals in his throat, and he had to kick Shoyou out.

How did Kuro do this on a regular basis?

——

He would probably always stay a bit more protective of Shoyou than he would be of others.

He realises Shoyou would be too much for him under any circumstances. He liked watching him shine from a distance, but up close he would be burned. Shoyou drained him over an elongated amount of time.

At the end of training camp, when Kuro, quite publicly, coughed flowers onto Tsukishima’s plate, Kenma decided it would be in everybody’s best interest to come clean about his feelings.

After all, if Kuro did this near daily, he could do it as well.

Well, easier said than done. Kenma didn’t talk about his feelings at the best of times, least of all when he was going to confess his love to a crush he  _ knew _ would reject him.

In the end, he got to meet Shoyou in private though, mere moments before everyone went to their buses. He confessed his feelings and circumstances and that he knew that he would be rejected.

Shoyou took his hands in both of his and shared his admiration for Kenma. For his strength to share such intimate feelings and being so upfront about them, saying he was brave and wonderful and smart and that there would be someone out there that would surely love Kenma for all the amazingness that he was. 

All things considered, Kenma was glad that his first ever unrequited crush was on Shoyou, and he regretted nothing.

So as things stood, Shoyou wasn’t for him, and he wasn’t for Shoyou. So who is for him?

* * *

Kenma was struggling with a particularly hard part of a new game as the door to his room was slammed open.

“I can’t do it anymore, I just want it to end.” Kuro leaned against Kenma’s door frame, looking worse for wear than he had that morning, and he had been looking pretty bad lately. Training camp had really gotten to him. 

He eventually pushed himself off the door frame and dropped himself in front of Kenma.

Kneeling in front of the bed, right where Kenma sat, looking so miserable it tore more than tugged on Kenma’s heart strings.

Game long forgotten, Kenma cupped the other’s face with his hands, having a thorough look at him.

“Why do you fall in love so easily?” Kenma asked Kuro for the nth time since it all started.

“I don’t know Kenma. I don’t know.” There was no emotion in that voice. No struggle, no pain, no tears. It was hoarse in the way that a throat sounded that had been used to much, it was quiet with the volume someone used that didn’t have the strength to talk loudly.

Kuro looked like garbage. Like an overused, abused, old and ragged garbage bag. His cheeks were getting hollow and his eye bags worryingly dark. His eyes bloodshot but dry as if he had cried them empty—they had nothing in them, void of feelings, sorrow at best.

There had to be  _ some _ reason why Kuro reacted the way he did.

Some trauma or desperate need for recognition something,  _ something _ .

Kuro was a nurturer. A loving person with a big heart that committed. A good person that saw a little introverted kid next door to him and thought it would be a good idea to drag him outside to make friends at a sport where he had potential. A loving person that saw an old man’s dream and dedicated close to a  _ decade _ to making that man’s dream come true, come what may. A wonderful being that lost himself in helping younger people improve themselves, even if it worked against his own means in the end.

Those had to be  _ good  _ qualities, yet all that happened was him getting hurt.

Kuro needed a place to channel all that love and attention; the over caring and meddling and making a fuss.

Somewhere where his heart and soul would be safe, and his care was appreciated.

Somewhere where he could be himself, in good times as in bad. Some place he could always go when things went wrong, but also liked to be when they went right.

Like a spark, recognition ran through Kenma.

“Can I try something?”

“Go ahead.” There was no life in Kuro’s voice, no worry or curiosity. Just emptiness.

Well, it was not like he could do all too much damage at this point.

He slowly moved closer, face to face with the other, lips only mere moments away from touching.

It took concerningly long, but eventually there was confusion in Kuro’s eyes, “Kenma?” and his voice. Too quiet for Kenma’s liking though.

Kuro’s lips were dry on Kenma’s, lack of care and an improper diet from all the stress recently had done their damage on them.

“Please stop, Kenma,” Kuro said in a meek voice, the tiniest evidence of worry in it though. “Surely the flowers will come back with this.”

Kenma moved back in, kissing deeper now, but only for a moment longer.

“How’s that?” Kenma asked, voice shaky, and impossibly quiet.

Instead of an answer, he got Kuro back up in his face, an eagerness in his movement that hadn’t been evident before. Kenma yelped quietly in surprise, then hummed against the other’s lips in satisfaction. Hands on jaw moving to the back of the others head, urging him impossibly closer, kissing him deeper.

Kuro’s eagerness increased then too, hands moving around Kenma’s waist, desperation filling his movement, and intention got evident on Kuro’s lips.

Kenma smoothly moved off the bed to fall into Kuro’s lap, releasing his lips finally to pull him into a close hug.

After a few breaths Kuro said, “Maybe we’re immune because we’re best friends.”

Kenma punched his arms for that. But only very lightly, he had been through enough already.

He put a hand back on Kuro’s truly magnificent jaw.

“No, dumbass, the flowers don’t come because I love you too.”

“Oh,” Kuro said very quietly, the gears in his head turning sporadically. If Kenma looked closely he could see smoke coming out of Kuro’s ears from rusty gears moving too fast.

“You have such a fragile little heart, Tetsuro,” Kenma said, putting his hand on the other’s chest, feeling it beat rapidly under his hand, “I promise I’ll take care of it until its last beat.”

“Okay,” Kuro said, breathlessly.

“Are you alright?” Kenma asked, in serious concern.

“This is a serious change of pace, not gonna lie.” His eyes looked glassy again, but at least there was life in them now. “Feel sort dizzy, disoriented. Glad I’m sitting down.”

“You wanna move to the bed?”

“Yea, yea.”

It was several, several moments into the two of them lying on Kenma’s bed, Kuro nestled into Kenma’s arms, and Kenma’s fingers running through the other hair when Kuro said very quietly,

“Is this really real?”

Kenma hummed in confirmation.

Kuro looked up, from where he had smushed his face into Kenma’s chest.

“No flowers, no pain, no rejection, no nothing?”

Kenma shook his head.

He could see Kuro processing this new information behind those eyes of his. Confusion was still in them. Curiosity maybe, or even a full on loading screen.

Kenma cupped Kuro’s jaw with the hand that had previously played with his hair.

“You are safe and sound, now my dear,” and moved back in to kiss him again.

After a moment, Kuro responded by humming in content, kissing back then. Kenma felt the body in his arms relax, and the atmosphere in the room became quieter.

No more pain, no more suffering, no more god damn flowers. 


End file.
